


A Regular MacGyver

by tattooeddevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get magically fixed around the house and Sam is completely confused. But then he finds something that explains a lot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Regular MacGyver

Sam has a routine when he wakes up. Swing his legs out of bed, then sit up and wince at the crack his back makes, haul himself up and out of bed, shuffle to the bathroom across the hall, leave the door open so the crappy lock won't fall into place without a way to open since the doorknob is half-gone, piss, stumble downstairs to get the coffee started for Dean, go for a run.

It works. He never thought he'd ever retire from hunting and settle down, let alone together with Dean, but they did and it works. They both have their little routines and they work too. Until someone fixes the doorknob on the bathroom door and the panic at being locked in, pounding on the door so your brother will wake up from his sleep and come break you out is completely and utterly useless when said brother simply just turns the knob and opens the door with an eye roll.

Sam grins at Dean sheepishly.

"When did that get fixed?"

Dean just mutters something unintelligible and heads back to bed.

He has forgotten all about the doorknob when one of his other routines is interrupted. Usually, on days when things around their rickety house don't get magically fixed, Sam will cook whatever passes for dinner around the time Dean starts to get snappy. Hunger does not make for a sociable Dean. There's a system for cooking too; grab all the ingredients he needs from the fridge by touch - the light has been broken for as long as Sam can remember -, open the door to the cabinet with the pots and pans very, very gingerly - the shelves are just waiting to jump out and attack him - and jiggle the knobs on the stove until one of the burners lights. When you know all of these things, you get used to it and work with it.

Until someone fixed the light in the fridge, screws the shelves tight and replaces the knobs on the stove. Sam first gets blinded, then looks like an idiot who is afraid of pans and then almost singes his eyebrows off because he hadn't anticipated the burner to light so quickly.

What the hell?

When he asks Dean about it, he simply gets an impatient "what the hell are you talking about, just cook already, will you?" and a growl when he dares to ask again. He raises his hands in surrender and heads back to the kitchen before Dean starts eating him, instead of dinner.

They bought their little house with the money they made from selling the dragon gold. It doesn't matter their real names aren't on the lease, it's theirs and they treasure it. Their first home where they both live that doesn't come with wheels and en engine. When they first laid eyes on it, the realtor had called it a fixer-upper and Dean had snorted "no shit". They'd gone and bought it anyway, it was good enough as it was; run down, a little cracked at the edges and just in need of some TLC. It reminded them of themselves.

Sam knows jack shit about fixing things and Dean's knowledge is most contained to cars, but when Sam starts finding wood chips in Dean's shirts and assorted screws and bolts around the house, he starts to think Dean might be branching out. The bathroom doorknob, the fridge light, the stove, the shelves; the porch light that suddenly started working again, the windows in their bedroom no longer jamming, the sink in the downstairs toilet no longer hanging from just one bolt.

Magically fixed, Sam's ass.

His suspicions were confirmed when he was turning down the beds and a magazine flopped to the ground from between the mattress and the bed frame. For one terrifying moment, Sam thought he'd found his brother's porn collection, but then his eye caught the title.

_Home Improvement and Design_

Huh.

Sam picked up the magazine and flicked through it briefly. Plumbing, wood carving, the latest line of drills, what screw is best for what job, how to put down carpet. Sam chuckled at a sudden thought. He threw the bedding to the floor and trampled downstairs to find Dean, who was bent over their coffee table, softly humming to himself.

The coffee table with the one loose leg.

Sam threw the magazine down on the table, right under Dean's nose and nonchalantly said, "hey there, Bob the Builder". Dean shot up like someone had prodded him with a cattle pole and fixed wide, shocked eyes on Sam. There was a blush rising on his cheeks and he was hiding something behind his back. Sam raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Something you wanna tell me?"

That makes the blush flush Dean's face bright red and Dean looks away with an embarrassed sigh. His hand comes from behind his back and he puts down the electric screw driver. When he looks back at Sam, he shrugs.

"It feels good to be doing something. You know, fix things."

He then mumbles something Sam can't make out.

"What?"

Dean flushes again and looks at his shoes. He shuffles his feet and marginally louder repeats his words.

"It soothes."

Sam can't help but laugh, but he stops himself dead when Dean glares at him. He swallows the giggles bubbling up and makes an exaggerated hand gesture.

"Carry on then. I wouldn't want to disturb your... DIY zen time, MacGyver."

Dean flips him the bird, "asshole", but goes back to fixing the table anyway. Sam figures it would actually be nice to get the house back in shape. Maybe he can help out with small jobs. The first hammer to the nail makes him reconsider though.

There's nothing soothing about a throbbing thumb.


End file.
